


Halfway to Hell (underneath my skin, the devil within)

by nebulein



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Established Relationship, Foggy does what he can, Heavy on the smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Matt is the king of angst, Rough Sex, light on the plot, post-Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5855167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebulein/pseuds/nebulein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days, being out at night punching bad guys in the face does nothing to satisfy the devil inside Matt. He's got this raging, snarling beast inside his chest and he knows if he lets it out, truly lets go, someone will end up dead. So he reigns it in and tries to ignore it, but it leaves him restless and itchy and full of pent up energy that's got nowhere to go. </p>
<p>Cue Foggy entering center stage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halfway to Hell (underneath my skin, the devil within)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for nairie, because she kept pestering me to write porn. So there. Beta also by her.
> 
> Disclaimer: don't own nothing, I'm just playing, please don't sue.

Some days, being out at night punching bad guys in the face does nothing to satisfy the devil inside Matt. He's got this raging, snarling beast inside his chest and he knows if he lets it out, truly lets go, someone will end up dead. So he reigns it in and tries to ignore it, but it leaves him restless and itchy and full of pent up energy that's got nowhere to go.

He finally found a group of muggers that threatened a pair of college undergrads in high heels and miniskirts who had about three cocktails too many, but even as he felt teeth shaking loose under his fists and heard the satisfying sound of bones crunching under his boots, Matt knew it wasn’t enough. Not tonight. Maybe not ever. He could feel the darkness sinking its teeth into his soul and no matter how many bad guys he sent sprawling on the pavement, he couldn’t shake it. No amount of violence would satisfy the devil in him tonight. He needed something more, something else to fill that void inside him that left him no outlet for his rage.

_Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned._

Midnight had come and gone a good while ago by the time Matt opens the rooftop door to his apartment. Foggy has been staying over more nights a week than not, and yet Matt still can’t find it in him to call the apartment theirs. Some part of him still expects Foggy to get fed up with him and leave any day. Sometimes he’s almost surprised to find Foggy sitting on the couch, smiling at him as Matt comes home. He desperately hopes Foggy stayed tonight. It takes him a moment, head cocked to the side, but then he can hear the electric buzzing of the lamp next to the sofa dimmed low, the faint rustling of pages. Foggy is still up then. Good.

Matt takes the stairs two at a time, rushed but sure-footed. He can sense Foggy looking up, the slight intake of breath as he takes in Matt’s state. God, Matt can smell him in the air, the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg and sweat and the need to get his hands on Foggy to ravish him, to claim his body and mark it as his, to be claimed in return, is nearly overwhelming. He dimly registers the soft thud of Foggy’s book on the coffee table, discarded as he watches Matt cross the distance between them in six long strides, zoning in on Foggy’s warmth and breath and heartbeat like a blazing beacon in a world that’s gone dark, devoid of its usual fire. Matt feels raw and exposed, every nerve-ending tingling, and he needs Foggy to be his rock, grounding him when the walls close in. Matt’s drowning in rage, in the need to rip the world apart.

“Matt,” Foggy breathes and it sounds concerned. He’s halfway risen off the sofa but Matt stretches out his hand, colliding with Foggy’s chest, and pushes him back down. He immediately follows, climbing on top and straddling him, effectively cutting off Foggy's only escape route. He grabs the front of Foggy’s shirt, fists burying in the soft fabric. Foggy grunts in surprise, but his hands come up almost immediately to hold Matt, draw him closer even as Matt searches for Foggy’s mouth with his own, claiming it in a bruising kiss. Foggy’s body responds effortlessly, molding itself against Matt, and Matt shamelessly takes whatever he can get, pressing closer. Foggy’s hands find their way under Matt’s shirt, fingers skimming circles over Matt’s back, and it’s good but it’s not enough. Matt grinds his hips against Foggy’s lap and grins with grim satisfaction as Foggy surges up to meet his thrusts. Even as Foggy is reacting more on instinct than on rational thought, at least his dick gets with the program. Matt can feel Foggy hardening against his thigh and he rubs against him, seeking out the hot friction of their slip and slide.

It doesn’t last. Matt can feel the precise moment Foggy’s racing brain finally catches up, can read it clearly in the line of Foggy’s shoulders suddenly going rigid, his muffled groans as he tries to escape Matt’s lips to get some air. Dammit.  
“Are you hurt?”  
“No.”  
Matt’s hurting and hollow inside, but it’s got nothing to do with his scrapes and bruises. Matt doesn’t need Foggy worried tonight. He needs him hot and desperate and taking what Matt offers.  
“You’re bleeding.” Foggy sounds alarmed.  
“It’s not my blood,” Matt growls, remembering the feeling of skin splitting underneath his knuckles, splattering his shirt with the sharp scent of iron and fear. Not enough, not ever enough. He kisses a line over to Foggy’s ear, nipping at the sensitive skin, but although Foggy shudders in response, he gently pushes Matt away.  
“Matt…” Foggy wants to talk. Matt wants everything but. He lets out a harsh breath and rests his forehead on Foggy’s, staying close.  
“Please.” He hates how his own voice sounds ragged and broken. “Foggy. I need…” He swallows, rocking his hips against Foggy by way of explanation. He’s rewarded with low moan and a sudden spike in Foggy’s heartbeat. “Don’t be gentle.” The last part is nearly a whisper. 

_Lead us not into temptation._

It’s not in Foggy’s nature to be rough. Impatient, yes, but never careless. So Matt draws it out of him with nails and teeth, goads and cajoles and pleads, “I need this. You. Foggy. Please, take me. Hard.” He ignores Foggy’s protests, offering himself up in a way he knows Foggy can’t refuse. “Yes, like that. Harder. Make me feel it. Make me feel, Foggy.” He pushes every one of Foggy’s buttons he knows, sucking on the soft skin above his collarbone, scraping his stubble over Foggy’s skin as his fingers rip and tear at Foggy’s clothing on the way to the bedroom. Whispers harshly in his ear, “I can feel how much you want this. Take it. Take me” until Foggy throws him onto the mattress, forgets Matt’s bruises and grips him tight, fingers digging into tender skin, and Matt arches into it, lets the pain light up his world.

Even after everything, Foggy tries to prepare him. Matt growls in frustration, pushing away Foggy’s slippery fingers to grab his cock, guiding it to his entrance.  
“You, Foggy. I need you. Now.” He wraps his legs around Foggy’s hips and pulls, drawing him in faster than Foggy intended and it’s sharp and harsh.  
“Jeez, Matt, slow down.” Foggy gasps, but Matt can hear Foggy’s heartbeat, a rapid tatteratatat, can nearly taste his desire, feels the tremble in his arms as he’s holding back.  
“Move. Fuck me, Foggy.” He clenches his muscles around Foggy, making himself even tighter, and Foggy chokes off a whimper.  
“Okay, okay, hold on,” and then Foggy shifts his hips and suddenly he’s driving into Matt in all abandon, fast and hard and deep and Matt nearly cries out in relief. He loses himself in the friction of skin on skin, pain mingled with lust as Foggy hits this spot that has Matt nearly seeing stars, drowning out everything else until his whole world consists only of Foggy’s panting breath on his cheeks, little drops of sweat falling onto Matt’s face, Foggy’s fingers bruising the skin over Matt’s hips as he holds him close enough to build up the leverage to slam into him, again and again, his pace nearly as frantic as his heartbeat, filling the emptiness inside Matt stroke by stroke. It’s frenzied and relentless and not meant to last.

“Fuck, Matt, I…” Foggy scrunches up his face and Matt spurs him on, heels digging into Foggy’s back, not letting up until Foggy comes with a shudder and a groan, burying himself as deeply into Matt as he can.

For a short, blissful while their combined ragged breaths are the only sounds in the room.

_But deliver us from evil._

Foggy withdraws slowly, careful not to let the condom slip. Matt has no idea how Foggy managed the presence of mind to even slip a condom on beforehand.  
“Shit, Matty, you didn’t even…” Foggy trails off, gesturing at Matt’s softening but unspent cock.

“It’s okay, Foggy, don’t worry about me.” Matt means it, this was never about getting off, but Foggy makes a snorting sound in the back of his throat that usually means he thinks Matt’s full of shit. Before Matt can do much more than push himself up on his elbows, Foggy’s already scooted down to take Matt into his mouth. Matt flops back onto his back, doesn’t even manage to stop the whine escaping from his throat because it’s Foggy’s mouth on his cock, wet and warm and hot and he can instantly feel himself hardening again. Foggy’s so goddamn gentle, fingertips caressing Matt’s skin with featherlight touches where they held him tightly enough to leave marks not five minutes ago. It’s almost as if Foggy is apologizing to Matt’s body for abusing him, lips and tongue ghosting over Matt’s cock that has Matt keening, but it’s good, so good, he doesn’t want it to stop.

“God, Matt, I’m sorry,” Foggy whispers, abandoning Matt’s dick to press tender kisses to the sensitive insides of Matt’s thighs, “you shouldn’t let me do this to you.” He slowly kisses his way up Matt’s body, caressing every bruise and mark. “You’re so beautiful, so precious, and you’re hurt,” his lips trace a fresh scratch that’s an angry red welt on Matt’s skin, “you don’t need me piling on the pain. I’m so sorry, please forgive me.”  
Matt wants to answer, to object, tell Foggy that this is exactly what he needed, that he asked for this, that he’s grateful, that it’s him that needs forgiveness, but his throat is closed up so he simply shakes his head. He can feel Foggy smiling against his skin, even though it’s a sad smile and Matt opens his mouth to say something but Foggy seals his lips with a kiss and it’s soft and tender and slow and Matt has no defenses against Foggy’s kindness. He opens up willingly, inviting Foggy’s tongue into his mouth even as a different kind of pain settles in his chest. Foggy’s fingers circle Matt’s dick, stroking him, enveloping him with just enough pressure to drive Matt up the walls.

It seems to go on forever, Foggy making up for every scrape and bruise, soft caresses until Matt’s skin is hyper-sensitive, all his senses focused on Foggy, shuddering at the barest trace of a touch. His chest has started to feel painfully tight, aching with every labored breath.

When Foggy finally takes him back into his mouth, sucking in earnest, it feels like absolution. And suddenly the last knot inside Matt finally unravels, picked apart by Foggy's clever fingers and lips and tongue. Matt comes with a surprised shout and Foggy swallows him down willingly, taking everything Matt’s giving. The hollow darkness that threatened to swallow him before has been replaced by a glowing warmth spreading over his whole body, filling him up. Matt can feel something wet running over his cheeks. He must be crying. Judging by the wetness of the pillow, he’s been crying for a while. When he’s well and truly spent, Foggy crawls back up and holds him close, drawing Matt’s head into the crook of his neck, petting his hair as Matt silently weeps into his shoulder. He wants to say something, to try to explain, to thank Foggy for being there, begging him to never leave, but none of the words make it past his lips.

_Pray for us sinners._

Matt falls asleep that night securely wrapped in Foggy’s embrace and for once his dreams don’t haunt him.

_Amen._


End file.
